’ Looking round, she found the little coterie of soldiers crowded into the passage behind them. Paris looms behind—a tragedy of strange recollections—here she emerges Phœnix-like, subtly developed, a flawless woman, beautiful, self-reliant, witty, a woman with the strange gift of making all others beside her seem plain or vulgar. . It’s just life, pure life, life nascent, running clear and strong. She stole the opportunity to peer at his departing figure from the closed curtains of the front room window, his shoulders slumped forward, his posture and his ego slightly deflated.
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